War and Peace
by WriteToSaveYourself
Summary: Of course that's how it works. Life is a story, as many people like to say, and every story ends at some point. He just wishes theirs was a saga and not a picture book. Peeta is interrogated by President Snow before the hijacking.


The room is stark white. His eyes are still blurry, he assumes he must've knocked out at some point and been transferred to a new interrogation room. Peeta blinks rapidly before taking time to really assess the situation. A door directly in front of him, what seems like a steel chair below him. His hand are behind him, wrapped around the chair with metal scraping his wrists. His clothes from the arena have been removed, replaced with a soft and thick material.

Only the Capitol would give war prisoners better material than they give the districts.

Peeta moves his bare feet across the floor and finds the tile to be freezing cold. He can feel some kind of congealed liquid come up as his toes scrape the grout. Leaning to the left, he looks down and see there's various colors stringing the once white grout and tile. Light pink, some brown, even white and green. He decides not to dwell on what bodily fluids he just stuck his foot into.

His hair flopped into view when he leaned, and this makes him wonder how long he's been here.

As Peeta decides to focus on inventory again, the door opens. In walks the caretaker from his previous room, donning white, carrying small bags of liquid and an opaque cup. Neither of these things make him feel secure.

The woman starts setting up behind him, and he strains just enough to see her attach the liquids to an IV.

"Wh-" he starts before coughing, his throat being grated with every breath. "What is that for?" He doesn't get above a scratchy whisper, but she seems to hear him in the echoed room.

"To keep you awake," she answers brusquely, wheeling it over to him before sticking the needles in.

And, as is his luck, Snow walks in.

"Thank you, Thredica. You're excused from his care when that is over." The woman- Thredica- only nods, finishing the correct needle placements before walking past her president with a nod and closing the door.

Silence rings through the room, and Peeta does nothing as he feels the unnatural liquid course through him, making his skin throb and reminding him of the bruises previously received. He's lost sense of time, but it wouldn't really matter if he could feel time passing anyway. Seconds, minutes, maybe even hours go by as Peeta sits and waits for Snow to say something, anything. Finally, he hears the smack of lips opening and realizes he had closed his eyes.

"We want this to be as easy as possible. No more beating around the rose bush, Mr. Mellark. Just cooperate and you will get the luxury offered to all Capitol citizens. We'll even throw in immunity." Peeta can smell the death on his breath, and Snow's eyes suggest something entirely different from the words uttered. The look in his eyes say that this is just the beginning of the deception.

Ever the diplomat, Peeta straightens as much as he can while restrained. "As I've said before, there's nothing more for me to say. I knew nothing of the plan of extraction, and I obviously know nothing now. I am cooperating, I'm not resisting you. I simply know nothing about the rebel plans."

Snow narrows his eyes. Two can play the diplomat game. "Well, Mr. Mellark, while it is true that you've cooperated with regards to your knowledge of treason, you have thus far omitted any information regarding a certain bird that we both know has your affections."

Snow's beard lifts as his smile curls while Peeta's face drops the previous polite smile and turns stony. "Ahh, yes. That got your attention, now, didn't it?" Snow folds his hand behind his back and strolls ever so slowly closer to the metal chair, looking at anything but the bruised blond. "This bird of yours has been causing us quite a bit of trouble. Before she was mostly a nuisance, a candle easily blown out. Now, however, she is being influenced by those in your home district," he gives a pause, finally locking eyes with Peeta. "And in others."

"What do you mean to say, exactly, President Snow? I thought we had agreed to no beating around the bush."

His sickly sweet smile curves impossibly higher. "Correct, Mr. Mellark. If I'm being frank, she has begun treason and uproar in the highest degree. Are you familiar with District Thirteen?" Peeta's intake of breath is taken as an affirmative. "She and the other traitors of your district have sought refuge in their underground dwellings. And now, we need her and the once great people of your district to remember that the Capitol is here in the districts' best interest. We want you to broadcast with us, rally some of the districts, give them hope that their idols are not all corrupted. We need to remind them of the horror that befell Thirteen, and that those who fight against us also fight against their friends." Another pause. "Such as you, Peeta. You're with the Capitol, are you not?" A small chuckle rings through the room. "You've always been very pliable to my demands, and fought valiantly in the Games to show the rich history of Panem. Don't you want Katniss to stop fighting us?" Snow turns around, as if to leave, but turns back toward Peeta just before reaching the closed door. "Don't you want her to stop fighting you?"

Peeta looks toward the floor, intensely studying the tiles, before looking back up. "I would never betray her. I would never ask of them to stop fighting for what's right. You deserve the anarchy coming to you." With that, he spits as far as he can, his dry mouth not producing enough saliva to make it past his lap.

Snow turns steely. "Very well then." With a flourish, the man turns back to the door and opens it, striding out. Peeta can hear quite murmurs further down the hall. The liquid that dips from the IV has started to make him alert, as Thredica had said it would, but maybe a little too much. His unblinking eyes start to frantically look around, images warping and the once white room instead reflecting all of the colors imaginable. He doesn't know how much time passes until, once again, Thredica files into the room. She is followed by many genetically altered men, with razor-sharp teeth smiling at him and metallic arms filed into weapons. One with a shaved head gets close to Peeta's face, breath rancid.

"So, you don't think this girl is fighting you? She is the enemy. She will always be. She's not worth fighting us." Peeta stares blankly at the man, images still warping before his eyes. The man sighs happily. "I love my job," he whispers, before punching Peeta square in the jaw.

Hours of this, of beatings and horrid images burned into his brain. He'll probably die here, right in this room.

He remembers telling Katniss that he wishes to die as more than a piece in their Games. He figures the best way to do that is to die in peace, knowing he has lived a life worth something. And to him, life was only worth living if he could show Katniss her worth, how he loved her and how strong she is. And for the most part, she let him.

He also remembers the times he sat with her, held her as she clutched him back, showed him those same things about himself. Star-crossed lovers: forever doomed, forever loved. People thought their love was a fairy tale, something straight out of a book. But books end, and what started as a love story turned into a tragedy.

Of course that's how it works. Life is a story, as many people like to say, and every story ends at some point.

He just wishes theirs was a saga and not a picture book.

But as with every book, the people in his life could do extraordinary and unbelievable things. Not many people get to say that they can do the things that Peeta could do. Or, at least, what people told him he could do. He could charm people into doing what he wanted with a handful of words and a smile. He could throw around enormous sacks of flour all day as if they weighted nothing. He could paint for hours on end and come up with a beautiful landscape or a rendering of a friend.

But, most importantly, he could love Katniss Everdeen.


End file.
